My Wife the Pussy Flasher

The following is based on actual events that took place not long after King Richard I (Daley) died suddenly in December of 1976 without leaving a successor. With the iron fist of the Boss gone rival factions in the City Counsel battled for control of Chicago.

This was an era when a wise bar owner cultivated a relationship with his alderman as well as the desk sergeant at the local stationhouse. Rodinos Restaurant did both and thrived. I know because I was there.

Don't bother looking for the restaurant; even though it's long gone I changed the name because I still run into some of the old timers who might not appreciate me telling tales out of school. All characters were of legal age when this took place.

Chapter I

When we were newlyweds without a lot of money my wife and I would play a game called Dress Up. Karen would show up at Rodinos for our date dressed, make that barely dressed, like one of the prostitutes that frequented the bar. Her natural blonde hair and heavy makeup were always perfect. Quite simply, she was the most beautiful woman there.

I would be sitting where I could watch the patron's reactions as she entered the lounge. Conversations would abruptly stop and heads snap as she walked the length of the bar, her heels clicking on the polished hardwood floor. Karen would walk slowly, pausing occasionally, as though looking for someone before taking a seat on a stool in the corner, directly across the room from me. She would turn and face away from the bar. I couldn't see but I knew she would cross her legs high, allowing her short skirt to creep up enough that every man there knew she was wearing nylons and garters on her long legs. She would allow her jacket to open just enough to allow a glimpse of the wonders which lie within.

It never took more than a few seconds before a man, or men, would offer to buy her a drink. Often times there were heated debates over who would be allowed the privilege. More than once the bouncers had to break things up when it became physical.

She would tell the victor she was waiting for her date but wouldn't mind his company until he arrived...if only to keep the lounge lechers from preying on her. Karen would reward him for the drink by discretely opening her blazer and flashing her damn near naked breasts which were riding proud on a chopper bra under a see through blouse.

A second drink would be rewarded with spread of her legs and a subtle flash of pink meat. When her new friend started making suggestions she would nonchalantly let it slip that she was a hired escort and her time had already been purchased for the evening.

After the third drink Karen would forgot to put her knees back together and casually pull her skirt up until the white flesh above the tops of her stockings was fully visible. She would pause, then slide the skirt up until she was fully exposed.

Karen would tease him until he made a move for her naked pussy. That's when my wife would shut him down by saying unless he paid for the privilege she was a SFANF girl, So Far And No Farther, while he stared at her cleanly shaved pussy.

It was the rare man who didn't tear his wallet out and stuff a few bills into her jacket pocket.

Karen would turn into a vamp, kissing him as though they were long time lovers, while he reached inside her jacket to fondle her breasts. Again I couldn't see it happen but the smile on her face said his hands were working their way up her inner thighs.

I would watch her expression get very serious when the man's fingers had reached her hot, wet cunt. She would close her eyes and roll her head from side to side as they played with her lips then slid their fingers inside her firebox.

The owner, Vince, used to walk over, buy me a shot, and say something classy, like "Your wife's cunt is solid gold" as we watched Karen getting molested. "Watching her is real good for business."

I always got a screaming hard on watching my wife performing for me and was often tempted not to intervene. But our game had rules and I knew that was as far as we agreed my beautiful bride would go. So I would show up and place my hand on her shoulder. Karen would glance back and announce my "client is here." You could see her wanna-be fucker crestfallen and quite a few attempted to negotiate with me, their fingers still deep in her tight cunt, to reimburse me for her company for the evening. I turned down some very attractive offers of cash from men wanting to have sex with my wife.

Karen was ever the entrepreneur. If the guy looked like he was prepared to spend some real money she would signal one of Vince's prostitutes over to complete what she had started. They would disappear into one of the back rooms and transact their business. The girls liked Karen because she never asked for a cut for warming up their client.

Once we were seated it was my fingers that laid claim to my wife's sloppy cunt while she counted the wad of cash she had earned. She never earned less than fifty bucks.

Chapter II

I thought we had life by the balls. That all ended the day Karen, my wife of ten years, was offered a promotion from upper middle management to lower upper management. Honest, I'm not making that up, that's what they call the rungs on their corporate ladder. Karen would be the first female executive in the company's forty year history. As was tradition, she would receive a bonus, a company car, and a generous clothing allowance. The dress code was simple, conservative suits at all times. There were no casual Fridays in the ivory tower. It was like a 1950's black and white sitcom.

Unfortunately her new job would mean relocating from our 32nd floor Mag Mile condominium to what I was assured was a very nice rental house in a suburb just outside of Phoenix, Arizona. This tested our marriage like nothing before. I kept pointing out they were making her the token woman only because the company was fighting for a government contract and was shy on their quotas. She argued with equal emotion that she was the most qualified and had earned the promotion. The battle raged on for over a week before Karen finally wore me down and I acquiesced.

That meant I would have to walk away from the fifteen years I had invested in my career, developing a network of contacts which made me the highest paid sales rep at the company. Unfortunately the company did not have a southwest office so I would have to start over from scratch somewhere else. The last thing my boss said to me was, "When you get tired of snakes, sand, and 100 degrees in the shade your job will always be waiting."

With unemployment creeping up to 10% there weren't a lot of high tech companies hiring sales representatives. After wasting untold hours scouring the internet and making phone calls I contracted with an executive search firm in a futile attempt to find suitable employment. Everyone in Arizona agreed; I had too much experience for an entry level job but no local network that would allow me to operate at my Chicago level. Basically, I was unemployable.

To make things even worse we were getting slaughtered by selling our condo at the height of Obama's Great Recession. $200,000 would vanish with one stroke of the pen.

We were hitting all of our favorite restaurants on a farewell tour; tonight would be the last stop. To be honest I had not been very good company and silently moped my way through the meals. Even gourmet food tasted like bile in my mouth. Tonight we had reservations for a booth at Rodinos, a dicey, darkly lit, Italian restaurant just north of downtown that we went to on our first date. Later that evening I learned Karen picked that particular restaurant because she worked there part time as a lingerie model while attending college. How she dressed was a test to see if I was a voyeur who would be aroused by her flaunting her body or an offended Puritan. If I was the latter the bouncers were standing by to make me go away.

It didn't take a very perceptive person to know tonight would not have a magical ending like it did after our first visit. Instead, after several sleepless nights I decided to end it where it began and tell my wife to go to Phoenix without me; I quit the marriage. Earlier in the day I visited a divorce lawyer and had him write out a proposed Separation Agreement and a distribution of assets. To tell the truth I really didn't give a shit and said she could take anything she wanted because I just wanted it over. I wasn't going to be dragged into the middle of the desert so my wife could become a quota queen.

At a few minutes after six Karen texted me that she was having a drink at the bar. When I arrived twenty minutes later the lounge was crowded, mostly with men standing alone nursing a beer while watching the Cubs blow another game. There were, however, a couple of men in suits hovering over a blonde in black at the far end of the lounge. Their backs were to me and at first I thought they were with one of the working girls; somehow I knew my wife was the center of the predator's attention. I debated breaking it up but elected instead to have Jan, the hostess, seat me in a private corner booth.

I ordered a vodka gimlet, double, and watched Jan's hot ass grind as she walked to the bar to place my order. Before returning I saw her whisper something in Karen's ear and point in my direction. My wife didn't turn but continued playing with her new toys.

I ignored the show, instead letting my mind wander back to our first night together when Karen admitted she had always been an exhibitionist and enjoyed the attention. She began by flashing her innocent white panties to her brother Bill. When looking up her skirt at her underwear became old hat Karen stopped wearing them altogether and began accidentally flashing her naked pussy at him. She quickly had his undivided attention. Soon she stopped wearing her bra and expanded her repertoire to include exposing all of her girl parts to her Bill. Karen was very proud of her breasts and they enjoyed being placed on exhibition. Despite his pleadings she managed, for the most part, to maintain a look all you want but don't touch policy.

Karen has what Bill nicknamed ice cream sundae breasts. When stimulated, the large aureoles swelled like crimson mounds on the top of her breasts, almost doubling their size. Her bright red nipples jutted out almost ¾ inch when erect, magnifying her arousal. Bill said when she laid on her back they looked like a huge scoop of vanilla with a nice sized scoop of strawberry ice cream on top, and her bright red nipples looked like a pair of maraschino cherries, hence the nickname.

Karen had no trouble attracting boyfriends but keeping them was another thing as she was soon flashing her pussy to their friends. More than one pair of best friends ended up slugging it out over ownership rights of her pink meat.

Ironically, the new boyfriends didn't stick around too long when they found out Karen wasn't a slut; she was that strange one-in-a-million woman who got sexually satisfied from exposing herself without automatically needing a cock to cum in her. She would have baffled Sigmund Freud.

Karen couldn't see the value in staying in school and dropped out the day she came of age. Her parents gave her ninety days to get a full time job and her own apartment or they would throw her out.

From day one she went commando at her job as a cashier in the mall. She would flash strangers on the bus ride to and from work. Word spreads quickly when a beautiful female co-worker is naked under her short skirt and Karen drew a crowd, make that a male crowd, whenever she bent over or sat down.

Too much attention is as bad as too little for an exhibitionist and the matronly store manager fired her after a stern lecture on how a lady does not let young men see her private parts.

Karen quickly learned that being discrete in her flashing was even more exhilarating than just sitting on a chair with her legs spread. The thrill of the hunt was how she described it. She also learned older men, particularly bosses, were much more generous when a smoking hot eighteen year old exposed herself for him.

That was how she met Vince, the owner of Rodinos Restaurant. She was sitting on a bench waiting for the bus with her legs spread to passing traffic when a cherry red Corvette pulled up; he told her to get in. Before they had driven a mile Vince had offered her a job as a high fashion model. Before they had driven two miles her blouse was off and his cock buried deep in her mouth. She swallowed and he paid her $100. Vince's cock became a regular visitor to her mouth. But Vince was a funny guy in that he would pay Karen a hundred bucks to suck his dick but wouldn't fuck her because he was married.

Later that night, wearing a sheer white blouse over a g string and chopper bra, neither of which hid anything, she had her inaugural night as Rodinos' newest lingerie model. The models earned their money two ways, earning tips and selling raffle tickets to win articles of clothing. Karen worked hard to earn tips because they had to split the raffle money with the house. The customers also liked tipping because they could stuff it into the young ladies costume with most electing to slip it into their panties.

Vince, never Vinny, worked real hard to cultivate an aura that he had underworld connections. There was little question that his restaurant was a hang-out for Chicago machine politicians, high ranking cops, and men who looked like they were hoods. Or that getting invited to Vince's monthly poker game was like wrangling an invitation to go fishing with the Pope. If Vince liked you he treated you like family. If you crossed him, however, you would be wise not to come around again.

Vince liked Karen right from the start and ended up becoming her mentor, loaning her the money to buy a car, finding an apartment close to the restaurant, and encouraging her to get her GED. When she balked at returning to school he said, "If you want to become a prostitute, I'll make you one. But you can do a lot better than that." Soon Karen was promoted to assistant manager. Vince made sure that his employees knew that even though Karen was his personal cock sucker she had earned the promotion. Through this all Karen continued to strut her stuff in the weekly fashion show as well as servicing Vince.

After flunking every class during her senior year it took eighteen months of studying and hard work to earn her high school equivalency diploma. With Vince's urging and support she enrolled as an economics major at the University of Illinois that fall where she maintained a perfect 4.0 Grade Point Average. I'm sure her econ professor's would have split their pants if they knew how the sweet looking straight "A" co-ed earned her tuition.

Oddly enough when I met Karen she was sitting all prim and proper in fluffy powder green dress swept the floor without revealing a hint of the wonders that lie beneath. She was a bridesmaid at her brother's wedding and I was a solo guest at the reception. I played on the same softball team as Bill, hence the invite. It became very obvious that quite an effort was being made to pair me up with Karen. I had heard a few stories about Bill's wild sister and was eager to get to know her better. I danced with her all night and, when the band called it quits, offered to drive her home. She blew me off with, "I've got my own car and I'm sober enough to use it."

"When can I see you again?"

"Next Friday...meet me for drinks at Rodinos." I was familiar with this restaurant's reputation as a place where married men took married women who were not their wife. It also made the news whenever some morality crusader would demand the police to do a prostitution sweep and arrest the Johns and working girls alike. This was not likely to happen as Vince had an almost incestuous relationship with the Chicago Police Department.

Add in an assortment of denizens of the city's underbelly worthy of a Mike Hammer novel and scantily clad lingerie models during Happy Hour, and, well you get the picture. But I didn't question her selection. "Six sharp. I don't like to be kept waiting." She gave me a cursory kiss and left me standing all alone in the middle of the dance floor.

That Friday everything went wrong and I didn't make it to the restaurant until just before seven. When my day began to fall apart I wanted to call and cancel but didn't have her cell phone number. I tried calling Bill to get her number but, surprise, he didn't answer on his honeymoon. I didn't expect her to be there as I scanned the bar. It looked like everyone was paired up however at the far end there was a blonde in a black dress entertaining four casually dressed men. They looked like suburban dads who had spent the day at Wrigley Field and were trying to score on their trip to the big city. She was facing away from me so I couldn't see her face but I could see her zipper was open; she wasn't wearing a bra. Figuring I had nothing to lose I walked towards the end of the bar to see if she was my date. When I got close I could hear the woman laughing and watched the men high fiving each other. They were circled around her screening their actions from the restaurant but I could glimpse between two of the men that her dress was pulled up around her waist and her naked ass was visible. The front of her dress sagged forward and I could see her naked breasts were high and firm.

I took a space at the bar next to them and watched the men taking turns running their hands up her dress. I ordered a drink and watched in rapt awe as this wanton woman allowed four men full access to her pussy. Based on what Bill had told me this had to be Karen.

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later she turned and recognized me. "Roger," she shouted. "It's about damn time you got here."

"Who the fuck is he?" One demanded.

"Sorry boys. I told you I was already hired for the evening." She glared at me, "And don't think you're getting a refund for the hour you didn't use." I shrugged my shoulders and said, "It's only money." Man, the looks I got would send a shiver up a corpse's spine.

I took Karen's hand to help her off the barstool. She stood, adjusted her garters, and pulled the back of her dress down. She didn't bother with the zipper. I let her walk ahead of me so we wouldn't be followed and watched the bottom couple inches of her ass crack smiling through a nice long slit up the back of the shimmering dress. Karen caught me staring and asked, "Like the view?"

I could hear the four men using some very colorful language as they complained about me stealing their entertainment. Karen noticed me glancing back at the bar and said. "Don't worry, they won't bother us...slutty blondes are good for business. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a very large bouncer inviting the Cubs fans to take their erections home to their wives.

Karen hiked her skirt up as she slid into the booth exposing all of her maidenly charms. As soon as we settled she began rubbing my cock through my pants. I accepted the invitation and placed my hand on her thigh. The scent of sex was strong and her stockings were soaked. I ran my hand up to her pussy and easily slid two fingers in. "Go gentle," she asked, "They were a little rough down there." She was so wet I wondered if she had already been fucked. I decided I didn't care.

A young lady dressed in a sheer, bright red baby doll came over to our table and greeted Karen with a full mouth kiss. I was amazed at how sheer her outfit was. I could see every freckle on her breasts. Karen saw the look on my face and asked, "Did I mention I worked my way through college as a model in the fashion show?"

She told me she was thrilled to see me in the bar because she had never had sex with four men before. She started teasing them figuring I would be along before things go out of hand. As a rule she never let that many men touch her as intimately as the men tonight but once one had his fingers in her pussy the other three just took access for granted. She then got passed from man to man as they competed to see who could make her cum the quickest. I showed up after her second orgasm, which was the reason for the high fives. Then she leveled with me that the bouncers would never have let the quartet do anything she didn't want them to do.